


Red-Letter Day

by TinyFakeFanficRock



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bisexuality, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyFakeFanficRock/pseuds/TinyFakeFanficRock
Summary: Deathclaws die and a closet door opens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Fallout Kink Meme.

"I never thought several tons of dead shit would look so good," said Clint, surveying the monstrous corpses scattered around Quarry Junction's heavy machinery, letting his legs swing carelessly over the ledge they'd been sniping from. They'd actually fucking cleaned out the goddamn quarry. The NCR could start making cement again for ... whatever the hell they wanted cement for; Clint didn't care. He and Boone had just wiped out a massive nest of deathclaws with nothing on their side but stealth and a sweet-ass pair of anti-materiel rifles. They'd done a lot of badass shit in the months they'd been running together, but for sheer adrenaline rush, this was even better than killing Caesar. Well, at least as far as Clint was concerned; he expected Boone disagreed.

"Yeah. Thanks for taking out the little ones. Know they're monsters, but ..." _But I've been called "babykiller" enough for one lifetime_ , Clint suspected the sentence ended.

"Naw, I know." He clasped Boone's shoulder. He couldn't remember if he'd ever touched the younger man before. Didn't think so; he'd have remembered muscles that damn solid, or at least the way his cock leaped to attention even from that brief contact. _Shit._ He shifted his rifle in his lap to cover it and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

Then Boone looked at Clint for a long, long moment, finally muttered, "Fuck it," and leaned in and kissed him, slow and confident. Clint parted his lips eagerly, stunned that Boone was interested in anyone, let alone _him_ , but more nervous now than on his way to the quarry.

It was fucking ridiculous for a man with more salt than pepper in his hair to be this wound up about kissing someone. Clint had certainly gone further than that enough times ... but always with women. Every time he'd even thought about a man that way -- and there'd been plenty of those -- he heard his daddy in his head, thundering that no son of _his_ was going to be like _that_. For decades, the fear of shaming the old man had kept that side of Clint's sexuality firmly sealed away in secretive but intense jerkoff sessions.

But his daddy was dead, and the man had also always said that if you're going to do something, don't do it half-assed. And even if Boone was half his age, like hell he was going to walk away from a kiss this damn good. Clint threw himself into it, hoping to God he wasn't fucking everything up, and revised his list of all-time adrenaline highs for the second time that day.


End file.
